


they shine for you

by orphan_account



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Domestic, Fluff without Plot, M/M, post-trk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 12:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7757803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam has never stargazed in his life, and Ronan can't believe it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they shine for you

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something short and sweet for a certain special astronomic occasion that's been going on (that being Perseids). This is the result. Alternative title: "i felt very strongly about looking at the stars once upon a time and it made its way into my writing".
> 
> Thanks to Barbara for encouraging me to post it.   
> Also, I'm an ESL kid, so feel free to point out if I messed anything up.

When Adam pulled up into the muddy driveway, the Barns greeted him with chilly breeze of copper August sky and spicy smell of wild herbs. It had rained the whole afternoon, and the grass was still partially wet, its heavy and earthy scents escalating in the heat that returned immediately after it stopped pouring down. Now, when the sun had almost sunk down, the line of horizon slowly licking it away bit by bit, the air had thinned out and breathing became easier. He stepped out of the car and inhaled deeply, abusing the rare opportunity, letting the scent fill his lungs and make him feel welcome.

Over the past few months, he’d been slowly teaching himself to be at home here. It wasn’t always easy yet, accepting that he could come to the Barns and stay whenever he pleased without feeling like an intruder or perceiving it as a stab to his independence, but he was getting there. It wasn’t without help of Ronan, who in his ever so subtle ways was helping his mind be at peace with this newly found feeling of being wanted. They spent most of the time there, despite Adam still occasionally sleeping a night or two every few weeks back in his old room at St. Agnes. Ronan seemed to not mind, or at least he never said anything about it.

He stood by his car door for a while, his eyes closed and his feet drowning in overgrown greens, before moving towards the house. This place was speaking to him in almost the same way Cabeswater had. It was harder to spot, and even harder to decipher, but not impossible for anyone who knew how to listen. It never communicated anything specific – mostly just threads of images or feelings, subtle and comforting, born in the core of Adam’s being and dissipating almost instantly like sugar in hot water, but it was enough. He thought he would be happy to be free of the bargain, and yet, after connection was gone, he often found himself yearning for the subtle presence including him into schemes far more grander than his human existence. He didn’t like to think of the day he would have to leave for good, and let this sensation fall behind forever. He used to cherish this thought, nervously anticipating the day he would get the chance to get out, but nowadays it was often spoiled by irrational nervousness.

Being enough on his own was hard. He tried his best, but still couldn’t resist tuning into the numinous radio waves that were spread out across the land of the Barns, weaved tightly into its essence. The Barns seemed to always recognize him somehow, responding to his call. Lacking the mind and awareness, it possessed a thing far more crucial – the soul.

Adam let himself bathe in the energy until felt his fingertips tingle, energized. A gentle wind blow caressed his hair. It shook raindrops off the leaves of an apple tree murmuring softly above him; they sprinkled his face and slid down behind his collar. He involuntarily shuddered as cold water sent a ticklish wave of goose bumps down his spine. It forced him out of his trance. He slammed the door shut and hurried inside.

The living room was dim and empty in the evening light. All of the windows were open and transparent curtains blowing up in the cold draft coming through reminded Adam of pulsating jellyfish. The sunrays playing in tree branches outside cast difficult patterns over them and the opposite wall, making it look like it was covered in murals. There was no one in sight, but Ronan’s BMW was parked in its usual spot out front, so he had to be around somewhere. Adam walked across the room and into the kitchen without turning the lights on. It didn’t feel appropriate in the moment, as if it would break the mood and make the electrified sparks of magic the air was so full of go away. It was likely impossible to rid this place of magic even if he set the house on fire and burned it to the ground, but he didn’t want to risk it.

The pile of papers previously heaped on top of the kitchen counter was now scattered on the floor. He walked over and bent down to pick it up, pausing over one particular piece. It was a print out for one of the class assignments he no longer needed, the other side of it depicting a caricature scribble of Ronan in one of his grumpiest moods – definitely Opal’s creation. At the bottom of the sketch, Ronan’s wobbly handwriting said ‘THIS DOESN’T EVEN LOOK LIKE ME’. With a faint smile, Adam dumped the papers in their initial place. He hovered by the counter for a moment, his gaze fixed on the drawing, and let out a small chuckle. As scribbly as it was, it was unmistakably Ronan, and Opal must have been very pleased to get the exact reaction she was aiming for. Kid had a serious talent, both in drawing and getting on Ronan’s nerves, even if he only pretended to be irritated with her most of the time.

The open glassy door that led to patio and backyard let in a sound of distant laughter, almost completely muffled out by the rustling of leaves. Adam shot his head back, turning his good ear in direction of the sound to hear better. The laughter rang out again, bright and mischievous, followed by a lower voice pouring out swears and clearly trying not to laugh too. Adam stepped out and followed the sound into the depths of the garden along the narrow pathway between lush flower bushes. Wide leaves brushed up against his shoulders, wetting the fabric of his button-up. The path ended with a large opening into the field stretched out for many yards, and led to one of the smaller barns occupied with various junk. In the light of the setting sun, the bleached hay was rendered the shade of a freshly cut salmon. Even the chapped up paint on the barn’s side looked fresh and flaming.

That was where he found both Ronan and Opal busy with carrying an ancient sofa with only one armrest out of the barn. He’d caught them in the very middle of the act. Ronan had the sofa by one side and Opal had another, but she clearly lacked arm strength as her side was sinking low and mostly hauled over the ground, leaving a wide trace in yellowed grass. The moment she noticed Adam, she let go entirely and it crushed down, almost slamming her fingers.

“Watch your damn hands!” Ronan shouted, struggling to regain balance and not drop the heavy carcass on top of his own feet.

“And you watch your damn mouth!” she parried as she hopped over to Adam and hugged him tightly around the waist, squishing a cheek into his stomach. He laughed and ruffled her hair lightly before she ran off again to frolic around Ronan, who with frustrated groans was still making attempts on dragging the sofa alone. Adam folded his arms against his chest.

“Let me guess – we finally ran out of space to store all the garbage so we’re having a garage sale?”

“Thanks for a helpful insight,” Ronan growled and gave another big haul before giving up and dropping the sofa with a dull thump. It moaned under its own weight making impact, and Ronan kicked the remaining armrest with a tip of his boot. Satisfied, he perched up on top of it and regained his breath.

Adam walked over and planted a small kiss on Ronan’s temple, cupping the side of his neck with one hand. Ronan run his fingertips along Adam’s wrist and down to his elbow, where they stayed just shy of rolled up sleeve of his flannel. He smelled of work and summer and salty skin, both sweet and bitter at the same time. He was trying to play grouchy, but now, with Adam’s presence so close, his features were softening by second.

“Seriously though, what _are_ you two doing?” Adam inquired. It was possible that he was missing something very obvious, but appeal of dragging a piece of half-broken furniture that has clearly outlived its age out into the yard still hadn’t occurred to him.

 “It’s for stargazing. I figured it would be more comfortable than lying plain on the earth, plus it’s still wet and we don’t want you getting a cold and missing work or school or some other super important thing.”

It wasn’t something Adam had expected at all, but somehow he wasn’t too surprised.

“Oh,” he simply said, letting go of Ronan, “I’ve never stargazed before.”

He lowered to the armrest by his side, observing Opal who by now had run off to pick up modest field flowers. And, knowing her, possibly chew on them as well. His fingers absentmindedly played with the shredded fabric of the tapestry. Some of the countless cats that were now slumbering around the farm must have had their ways with it at some point or another in the sofa’s lifetime.

“What?” Ronan’s head snapped to face him. “There are stars over your head every fucking night and you’re telling me you’ve never stargazed?” He seemed indignant by the first glance, but the playsome way his eyebrows were knit together told Adam that he wasn’t being serious. He shrugged.

Back when he lived in his parent’s doublewide, the sky was too washed out with Henrietta’s light ambience and overly bright floodlights of the neighboring trailers, making it impossible to make out anything but the brightest stars. Besides, he was never allowed to stay out after dark for too long, a slight disobedience costing him a fair share of trouble. And even after he moved out, he’d never had enough time to sit back and watch. The night was for extra shifts at Boyd’s, it was for schoolwork, supernatural quests, and restless research, and, if he was lucky, for sleep. Never for stargazing. It was a luxury for people who had spare time to dispose of the same way they could do with their money; he could afford neither of those things.

He didn’t feel like explaining. Instead, he asked, “How’d you come up with the idea anyway?”

Ronan kept quiet for a beat, as if rolling the thought around in his head and trying on all the best ways to word it.

“See, it was a thing when we were little kids, Matthew, Declan, and I. Every year, around the same time, there’s a big meteor shower going on. It’s called Perseids, I think. Dad made it into some sort of tradition; we would spread out blankets and lie here for hours, watching the shooting stars and listening to his stories until we fell asleep. And then he would carry us back to our beds, but don’t worry, I don’t expect you to do this part.” Ronan tipped his head back. His eyes went absent and dreamy, the way they always did whenever he found himself reminiscing these days, and his lips curled into a pleasant shape.

Adam felt something in his heart area clench. There wasn’t a day that went without a thing or another adding up to the endless list of all things beautiful about Ronan Lynch. Ronan always tried to share these little pieces of his own childhood with him, all the moment Adam should have had growing up but never got the chance. He wanted to erase every time Adam had stumbled over the empty liquor bottles scattered across the floor by his drunken father; every time he was forced to cower in his room in fear of demons that might face him once he dares to stick his nose out the door, and hoping they wouldn’t find him if he kept quiet enough; take every bruise and every fractured bone, and replace it with something worth remembering. There was a lot of catching up to do, and Ronan was aware of it. For a brief moment, Adam was too overwhelmed with emotion to speak – his body a wessel of gratitude and love, love, _love_ – until he finally managed a simple, “Sounds nice.” His throat squeezed and words came out constrained.

Ronan’s face softened even more. At any other time, with any other person, Adam would have thought of it as a display of pity, but not now and not with Ronan. Never with Ronan. He’d been doing a hard job of unlearning this sour bale the world had been planting in him throughout the course of his life. He wasn’t going to blow these efforts.

“Yeah. Thought you’d like it,” Ronan smiled. They regarded each other in silence for a bit. When Ronan faced away, the shadow of a smile was still playing on his lips. He stretched his back, popping neck bones, and called out, “Hey, brat!”

Opal came up running. Excited, she danced around in one spot and placed a shaggy flower crown on Ronan’s head. It was made of weeds and tiny flower heads for the most part and immediately gave Ronan a somewhat disheveled look. She backed off carefully inspected him through narrow eyes, visibly pleased with result.

“That’s better,” she snickered. “Now you look just handsome.”

“I always do,” Ronan dismissed, getting up. He gave the armrest another heartfelt thump. It startled Adam and he almost fell over backwards, which sent Opal into another giggling fit. Ronan caught him by the elbow.

 “Come on,” he said to Opal. “I refuse to deal with this old piece of crap on an empty stomach, and I bet Adam is hungry too. Let’s go get something to eat.”

 

They cooked some pasta for a dinner. Under Adam’s careful supervision, Opal helped slice up the vegetables while Ronan cooked meatballs, which he claimed to be Aurora Lynch’s special. Opal wouldn’t stop snatching ingredients off the table even after Ronan’s several warnings, that evolved into a series of ‘last warnings’ and then ‘very last warnings’. The pasta water was left unattended and almost boiled down because they were too busy racing each other around the room. Adam had almost laughed himself into tears over their playful bickering. One of the best features Opal had inherited from Ronan was his tongue.

By the time they were done eating, it was completely dark outside. They left the dishes in the sink because none of them were in the mood to wash them. Instead, they went out into the garden and finished moving the sofa over to where Ronan wanted it to be. Opal, who was getting under their feet more than she was being helpful, was presented with a very important task of shining the flashlight, which she did while loudly cheering them on from where she was standing in the barn’s passageway. Ronan brought a couple of blankets from the house in case any of them got cold. More bickering followed as they tried to settle down. The sofa was just big enough for two people to lie down side to side comfortably, if only a little squashed together, not that either of them found it an inconvenience. Opal plummeted down at their feet and fumbled around, making herself a blanket cocoon and taking up all of the boys’ attention, most of which went into making sure she wouldn’t turn hard enough to crumble to the ground. Finally, she stilled. They waited a minute, making sure she was done.

“Now, watch,” said Ronan and clicked the flashlight off. Adam leaned back. Now, that the last light source had gone off his, eyes took some time to readjust to the darkness, and then—

And then, he was diving head-first into space. With all the funny ruckus they’ve been making, he never took a second to look up and see what was ahead. The sky rushed down on him, closing up like a dome, low enough to reach out a hand and touch it. The silvery streak of the Milky Way shined pronounced, as if someone with power divine took a bowl of pearls and spilled it over the blackness. Every enigma breathed in his face, all light or lack thereof suddenly held meaning. A thin web of glimmering threads connected every star, building it into a gigantic constellation, alive and restructuring every time Adam blinked. Tiny sprouts of light reached down, entwining and ornamental, and connected to things on earth, turning the world into God’s fishing rod, where all people and all creatures living were but little fish caught up in the nets. The garden pulsated to life, responding to each breath of the void. It whispered universe’s secrets into his ears; mysteries grew on trees, ripe and ready for him to collect. He was suddenly hyper-aware of molecular structure of each and every of his body’s cells. He was a collection of galaxies perpetually attracting and repelling each other. He felt like so much more now than he did mere seconds ago.

Unable to say a word, unable to think, barely able to breathe, he turned his head and met Ronan’s eyes. Everything he saw above was reflected in them like in a mirror. They were a star map now, as if someone’s careful hand copied every constellation for him to retrace. He didn’t need to look up anymore; all he wanted to see was right there, next to him. Adam took Ronan’s hand, palm pressing against palm and fingers linking. Ronan’s veins were rivers of crystal water; his skin was reach soil and deep quicksands; his bones were chalk and iron and diamond, fragile and uncrushable all at once. He was everything, and he was even more than that.

Ronan reached out and touched Adam’s cheekbone. The worlds were destroyed and built anew in fractions of a second in places they collided. They kissed, and it was a new dawn, it was all suns of the world burning out, stars above them popping like firecrackers and reigniting again.

They lay in silence for an indefinite amount of time, aligning with each other’s breath. Eternity was laid out flat, pinned like a dissected frog before them. Every word of all human languages seemed artificial and unnecessary. Even if any of them wanted to speak out, Adam thought, he wasn’t sure if they’d be able to hear each other over how loud everything but them was. Suddenly, he was struck with a powerful surge of belonging. It was more prominent than anything he’d ever felt, distilled as though he accidentally managed to decode the DNA of the feeling. Maybe, he had. His whole life he’s been waiting to belong without realizing that he couldn’t belong to anything any more than anything else could belong to him. That was unless he made a choice. Belonging was a conscious decision. He was making it now, with Ronan so alive at his side, their palms still closed tightly around each other, and Opal sound asleep curled up warm against his shins.

 The skies whitened out, stars fading away one by one until all of them had vanished. The landscape turned into the muddy palette of greys and blues. The stars were gone, but they were still there, imprinted on the back of Adam’s eyelids, embroidered in freckles on his skin. He knew he would carry them wherever he went.

The morning chill crept up, crawling inside the bones and making the early dew condense. The blankets went soggy. They got up groggily and carried Opal through the sleepy house to her bed, where they left her wrapped up in her nest. She quietly snored as Adam stroked her hair before walking out of the room and half-closing the door. The sound was soft and reminded of a grumble a dog would make in its sleep.

They crashed down on Ronan’s single bed and his old childhood bedroom. The cluttered shelves aligning the walls looked fuzzy, melting down into solid gray mass. Adam’s sleepy mind was playing tricks on him, making it move out of the corner of his eyes and shapeshift into surreal figures. The room was underwater, and they were lying in the dim stillness of the ocean’s bottom.

They shared the pillow, foreheads pressed together closely enough for their breaths to become one in what little space was between them. Nothing seemed real. Adam wondered if Ronan had pulled a magic trick on him, sucking him into one of his dreams, and now he was venturing through it towards the point where he would inevitably wake up. Waking up didn’t seem scary. He was devoid of doubt. It was forced out of him, all of the spaces it used to take up now occupied with the echoes of this impossible night.

There was still leaving waiting for him in the future, but now it wasn’t frightful. Whatever this feeling was, it was going to stay with him wherever he ended up. It was a piece of Ronan’s world, its roots put down in his chest, heating up the blood flowing through his arteries and operating his lungs. He was still sure he wanted to leave, but this time he allowed himself to think that he might want to return.

The choice has been made.

Adam’s heavy eyelids closed. Clinging onto the very edge of consciousness, he found Ronan’s hand again. It was warm and limp, the humming pulse on his wrist reverberating in time with the pulse of the past night and Adam’s own. He pressed the long fingers to his mouth, and inaudibly, just with the movement of his lips and tongue against teeth, outlined, “Thank you.”

His mind slipped, as he slowly descended into deep, dreamless sleep. It was enough world-making for one day.


End file.
